


Ice Flowers

by AislinCeivun



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Miracle, Established Relationship, Family Feels, Fluff, Introspection, M/M, Post-Season/Series 02, Romance, maybe 👀, mentions of (canon typical) drug use and suicide, reflections, rehabilitated queer zombies playing in the snow and preparing for the holidays, winter atmosphere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:53:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28197213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AislinCeivun/pseuds/AislinCeivun
Summary: Looking at Simon, Kieren can’t help but smile again. He didn’t really expect Simon to wear the hat Sue knitted for him, but there it is, sitting on the top of his head in all of its purple glory, snowflakes dusting the tip. There is no blood to turn Simon’s cheeks pink from cold, so his complexion seems even paler than usual amidst all that white. His eyes—the same shade as the snow surrounding them—are half-closed, his gaze soft, dark lashes fluttering as he takes in the sight.[Originally written for the 2015 ITF Advent Calendar event - Day: December 20]
Relationships: Amy Dyer & Simon Monroe & Kieren Walker, Simon Monroe/Kieren Walker
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Ice Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is an old fic - as noted in the summary, originally written in 2015 for the ITF Calendar Event hosted on tumblr by intheflesh-art. I didn't get around to posting it to AO3, then I took a fandom hiatus for several years, and it ended up gathering dust on my hardrive.
> 
> Since I came back to fandoms & writing in 2020, I finally digged this up, did some much-needed edits, and now I'm ready to post it _this_ December 20. :) I like to have my works in order though, so I'm thinking that I'll leave the fic as it is for a few months, then backdate it to 2015. Just a heads-up.
> 
> My artist pair for the event was [do-not-call-it-art](http://do-not-call-it-art.tumblr.com/) and you can find the original post [here](https://intheflesh-art.tumblr.com/post/135674174860/advent-calendar-december-20th). Her lovely, lovely fanart is also embedded in the fic.
> 
> It's been a hot minute since ITF ended (a fact I'll never NOT be upset about) but I hope some of y'all mind still be around and find some enjoyment in this little story!

Ice Flowers

Kieren’s been awake for a while, but he feels no need to leave the bed just yet. He is warm—as warm as his dead body can get, that is—and well-rested, and there’s an arm thrown around his waist which is extremely nice. Almost as nice as the even puffs of breaths falling on the back of his neck that make his skin tingle pleasantly. His eyelids are heavy with the remnants of sleep, but Kieren opens them anyway, blinks against the sudden brightness and squints at the digital clock on the nightstand. Eight thirty.

Sighing, Kieren closes his eyes again and pulls the comforter up to his ears, careful not to wake Simon. His bed companion growls a bit, but once Kieren settles back against him, his breathing evens out. He pulls Kieren closer, his hold on him tight, but not uncomfortably so. It’s a curious feeling, one he never had the chance to experience like this before... Well. _Before._

It’s been almost two weeks since that dreadful day when Kieren lost his best friend and he himself was forced into a situation that could have easily resulted in more tragedy. Sometimes, it still seems unreal. Sometimes, he still thinks—hopes—he’ll wake up to find it was just a nightmare.

Like Rick, Amy left a bleeding wound in his chest that’s never going to heal.

Some scars are worth having, however. This wound is a memento, just like all the things Amy left in the bungalow. 

For now, Simon still lives here. They’ve boxed up most of Amy’s belongings, but they kept some things around. Whenever Kieren comes over for a visit, he can still see the flower shaped cut-outs Amy glued onto the cupboards, the paintings she hung on the walls, the colourful accessories she left in the bathroom. No matter how much Kieren’s heart aches from the sight, it also makes him feel like Amy kept on living in some way. Like her presence was still here. 

He figures it must be similar for Simon.

Simon and he… They are _something_. It came at the worst time and in the worst way, but there’s no denying that Simon’s constant presence by his side makes everything a bit more bearable. Even though he is just as damaged as Kieren; even though his soul aches from the loss of Amy all the same.

A few days after the funeral, Simon told Kieren the truth about what was really going on that afternoon on December 12. At first, he just cautioned Kieren to be careful because the ULA might come after them both—but something cracked in him, and suddenly, everything came spilling out: that he saw what Gary was doing to Kieren and yet let it happen; that he was given an order to kill Kieren; that up until the very last second, he was going to follow it through.

That if it had been anyone else but Kieren, he might not have had a change of heart at all.

All throughout this confession, Simon could barely meet Kieren’s eyes. His voice might have been detached, but his posture told a different story. With his head hung low and shoulders rigid, Simon was a picture of shame and nervousness. Once he finished talking, he just sat there, visibly bracing himself for Kieren’s reaction—for Kieren to cut all ties with him and send him a way, it seemed.

Kieren did send him away.

For two days.

He was mad— _of course_ he was! But more than anything, he was mad at the ULA, and that bastard who called himself the Prophet. Simon wasn’t completely without fault, no, but… that man spun lies like a snake, played with the faith of those who trusted him, manipulated people into committing atrocities. Simon had given his everything to this cause. The ULA was his life. And the so-called Prophet rewarded him by attempting to turn him into a murderer. 

Who knows how many others are still out there, following this man who feeds them insane stories about faith and belief and plays into their desperation and loneliness? Oh, how Kieren despises him. 

He pities Simon. Having caught his mutterings during nightmares, Kieren had a suspicion that Simon was far less put-together than he liked to present himself; that he was suffering under the disguise of calm, keeping the worst of his demons to himself. After talking things through with the man, this was all but confirmed.

But a few weeks of relative peace and uneventfulness seemed to do wonders to them, both.

There are days when Kieren forgets all that is wrong in the world. Some days, he forgets himself to lazy kisses, late-night games with Jem, family lunches and holiday preparations. Maybe it’s because the past few months were so horrible, but his parents are really doing their best to pull off a nice Christmas. They’ve been having lunch together at the Walkers’ on multiple occasions, Simon invited. In fact, they are expected again for Sunday lunch in a few hours.

Kieren wordlessly counts to ten, then carefully frees himself from his partner’s embrace. Simon lets out a displeased huff of breath, but the lines on his face relax a few seconds later and he falls back asleep. 

On a sudden whim, Kieren leans down and brushes a feather-light kiss to Simon’s forehead, then gets up and quietly leaves the room.

The bungalow feels cosy, almost like a second home. He can almost see himself in another life where he’d gone to college and ended up sharing an apartment with Simon and Amy. Maybe Rick, too. (Kieren pauses for a second. Simon and Rick… What he feels for them is similar, but still, they are worlds from each other. It’s too different, the situation is too different—Kieren himself is too different… He shakes his head and pushes the thought away. No sense in pondering what-ifs.)

He goes through his morning routine in the bathroom. The cover-up mousse and the contacts are still on the shelf, but he hasn’t touched them in weeks. Despite that, Kieren thinks he’s never looked healthier in this second life of his.

Well, ‘healthy’ might not be the right word. But it’s true. Even with his grey skin, cracked blue lips and eerie white eyes, he no longer sees a haunted demon when faced with his own reflection. He is finally content with who and what he is. He feels good in his skin. Normal.

He just wishes it happened sooner.

Some time later, he is watering Amy’s cactus in the living room when the quiet rustling of footsteps alerts him to Simon’s approach. Two arms circle him from behind, and Kieren relaxes back against the hold.

He isn’t used to such affectionate gestures (it’s new and strange, not something he’s ever had the chance to really explore) and he doesn’t always welcome them. But this morning, it’s nice to push back against that wide chest and let his head fall onto Simon’s shoulder. Simon’s nose strokes his temple, and then he can feel a barely-there kiss pressed onto his skin.

“Morning,” Simon mutters into his ear.

Kieren just hums in content. 

“I had a dream about your father,” Simon continues. “We visited them, and he kicked me out of the house because I forgot to praise his jeans.”

“That can very well happen, so I’d take his jeans seriously.” When Simon tenses up, Kieren looks up at him over his shoulder. “Hey. I’m just teasing you. Why would he kick you out? He obviously likes you.”

“Maybe.” He lets Kieren go. “It’s snowing. Did you see it?”

“Really?” Kieren turns on his heels and hurries to the windows. A genuine smile curls up his face. “It’s the first snowfall of the year!”

The streets are already covered in a thick layer of snow. Everything is so white the brightness of it should hurt his eyes, really, but it’s so beautiful Kieren can’t stop staring. 

Simon is back by his side. “It must have been snowing all night. At this rate, we’ll have a white Christmas this year.”

“That’d be nice. We haven’t had one of those in years.” Kieren glances up at Simon. “Want to go outside?”

He hopes he doesn’t sound too excited, but the little upward curl of Simon’s lips tells him he probably does. If Simon finds it strange that Kieren wants to explore the first snow of the year like a kid, he doesn’t mention it. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go.”

The scene outside is right out of a winter wonderland postcard. The sun is peeking out from behind grey clouds just enough to give a soft orange glow to the thick duvet of snow that seems to cover everything in view. The temperature must have dropped really low overnight because there are icicles hanging down from drains of the building and the chilly air fogs up in front of their faces as they breathe.

Looking at Simon, Kieren can’t help but smile again. He didn’t really expect Simon to wear the hat Sue knitted for him, but there it is, sitting on the top of his head in all of its purple glory, snowflakes dusting the tip. There is no blood to turn Simon’s cheeks pink from cold, so his complexion seems even paler than usual amidst all that white. His eyes—the same shade as the snow surrounding them—are half-closed, his gaze soft, dark lashes fluttering as he takes in the sight.

When their eyes meet, Simon’s mouth curls up. He turns, raises a hand to dust flakes off the shoulder of Kieren’s coat… and brushes Kieren’s cheek in passing when he’s done.

“Your fingers aren’t cold,” Kieren notes with a bit of a surprise. “I don’t know why I expected them to be freezing.”

“Habits. This is the first winter since the Rising that we’re not spending locked up in a treatment centre; it’s a new experience for all of us.” He closes his eyes for the briefest moment. “Last week, I forgot myself and took a bite from one of those gingerbread men your mother made. It happens, no matter how much time passes.”

“But that’s not a bad thing, is it? We know who we are, what we are. Forgetting things like this just means that we’re comfortable with ourselves enough to not question everything we do. I… I, too, feel somewhat sad whenever I run into something I can’t do now that I could do in the past. It’s like finding a shirt I used to really love, only to find that it doesn’t fit me anymore. And there’s nothing I can do about that. But… the memories are still there, yeah? 

“Yeah.” Simon pushes his hands into his pockets and looks around. “So? What do you wanna do? Just wander around? We’ve still got some time left before your parents are expecting us.”

“Don’t you need your shot yet?”

“It can wait until we come back.”

“Okay. Then yeah, let’s wander around.”

They don’t speak much, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. Admiring the snow-covered trees together, leaving footprints in the virgin snow, breaking frozen puddles with their shoes… It’s nice. He’s probably channelling his inner child, but Kieren enjoys it. 

They even end up building a small snowman in the backyard. Kieren can’t remember the last time he built one with Jem, but once the urge strikes him, he immediately goes to hoard up snow and starts shaping it into something. Simon catches on quickly and helps him without any prompting. He only stops when their creation loses its generic appearance under Kieren’s hands and starts resembling a woman.

Kieren is moving on autopilot, not really aware of what he’s doing until he smoothes out what must be the long hair of the snow… woman. It’s got the same round face as any snowman, but the lower parts are made up of a slender middle and a huge, round skirt. Despite not feeling the cold, Kieren’s bare hands are stiff by now, his fingers slightly numb, but he continues shaping and smoothing the snow figure until he deems it perfect.

Simon doesn’t comment on it. He disappears for about five minutes, and when he comes back, he’s got a flower-patterned scarf in his hands. He wraps it around the figure’s neck with gentle movements.

Kieren’s chest feels tight and warm.

Eventually, he hopes down on the ground in front of Snow Amy, then lies down on his back. he can feel the snow soaking through his jeans, slowly melting under him, but he doesn’t mind it. He can’t catch a cold after all, and he planned on changing anyway before going back home for lunch.

The sky is really bright. Not quite blue, but not colourless either: a mess of swirling grey-silver clouds. Kieren breathes out, and watches mist spring up in the air above him.

“What are you doing?”

“Not sure, to be honest. But it’s nice.” Kieren turns his head and squints up at Simon. “Come down?”

Simon studies the state of Kieren’s jeans. “I quite like my jeans.” But he complies anyway: first, he just sits down, then slowly—if reluctantly—lies down on his back. 

Their heads are almost touching, but then Simon angles his body away so there’s about an arm’s length between them. Kieren doesn’t understand it until Simon stretches out his arms and starts moving them up and down, repeating the same swiping motion with his legs.

He stops after a while and just lies there, looking unsure. Then he carefully gets up, dusts himself off, and stares down at his creation. His face is so serious compared to how the rest of him looks (bits of snow stuck to him everywhere, dark patches on his clothes) that Kieren can’t help but giggle.

“What?” Simon furrows his brows. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when playing in the snow?”

It warms Kieren’s heart how seriously Simon has committed to humouring him. He lifts an arm and catches Simon’s hand with it, squeezing it tight.

“Thank you.” He is smiling so hard his face feels like splitting. 

He would like to kiss Simon very much, but he doesn’t feel like getting up just yet. It must show on his face though because Simon goes down on his knees, leans over him, and presses his lips to Kieren’s.

Their mouths must be icy, but they don’t feel it much. Kieren focuses on the dryness and softness of those lips; on the gentle force of the pressure; on the lovely way they fit together. When Simon breathes out through his nose it tickles the skin above Kieren’s mouth, and he giggles again, their foggy breaths visibly mingling together.

By the time they go back to the bungalow to change, there are _two_ snow angels hanging out with Snow Amy. It’s nice to think of the three of them together.

* * *

Despite their initial reservations about him, the Walkers have warmed up to Simon. Sue in particular has started to dote on him. (Taking a bullet for his son apparently got the man into her good books forever.) Steve catches Simon for small talk all the time, sometimes making things rather embarrassing for Kieren, but they get along fine. His father doesn’t trust Simon completely, not yet, but it’s obvious that Simon’s self-sacrificing was enough to get him off the gook in Steve’s eyes.

As for Jem… Kieren anticipated her to be the one with the coldest attitude to Simon, but the two get along surprisingly well. Sometimes, Kieren catches them talking quietly in a corner. If Simon notices him, he usually makes a small gesture with his hand, signalling Kieren to leave them alone.

Kieren’s fine with that. Simon is still fighting his own demons, but if he can help Jem face hers in any way, Kieren’s grateful for that. Jem always puts on such a strong front, but he knows his sister needs help. His mother is aware, too—she said she’s going to look into finding professional help for Jem after the holidays.

Today is no different from all the other times they dined together. After they arrive, Sue and Steve catch Simon for small talk while Jem snickers at Kieren from the living room. He makes a face but leaves them all be in favour of going up to his room to put away the clothes he brought back from the bungalow.

Thank god he did so alone: the ridiculous Christmas sweatshirt he bought for Simon is right there on the bed in plain view. He quickly folds it up and puts it away, right next to the snow globe he also got for his… boyfriend. (Damn, that sounds strange. Blush-inducing. Unusual. But he figures that’s what they are, and it’s not…an unpleasant thought. At all.) The globe is about the size of Kieren’s fist, and there’s a small wooden church inside surrounded by pine trees. It’s got that charming antique look to it. Hopefully, Simon will like it.

Walking to his windows, Kieren discovers that the glass is frosted over with ice flowers, the crystals glittering in the soft sunlight like diamonds. He touches the glass curiously, but he can’t touch the flowers directly—they’re on the other side of the window. Even still, he presses his fingers to the smooth glass and pictures the ice crystals melting.

Back when he was alive, he could melt them with the heat of his touch. That wouldn’t happen anymore, huh.

“Kieren?” Kieren jerks; he didn’t hear Simon coming up. He turns around. Simon is leaning against the doorframe, cool as anything. “Your mother is calling. Meal is almost ready.”

“Okay. I’ll be down in a minute.”

Simon tilts his head, his snow-white eyes narrowing slightly as he studies Kieren. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, of course.”

“You seem… pensive.”

Of course he wouldn’t leave without calling him out on it.

Kieren turns his head to gaze through the window again. “It just hit me again how different things are now. It’ll pass.”

“I’m sure.” Simon comes inside after all. Kieren can feel his eyes on him. His presence is comforting, though Kieren has no idea why he’d need comfort. Why he feels uneasy at all.

He was having such a good time this morning. And he’s not feeling particularly bad now, either. It’s just… Just…

“You know,” Simon starts softly, “I haven’t been this excited for the holidays in a long time. Even before the rising, before Mother’s death… Winter was all about sitting alone in a freezing room and shooting myself up to forget how bad my situation was. I didn’t care about anything, really. I was hurting in ways I did not understand, and I didn’t know how to stop it.”

Kieren bites down on his lower lip. Simon’s words make his heart ache, mostly because he understands where he’s coming from. Their situations might have been different, but after Rick’s death, he was equally devastated. He didn’t use drugs, true, but what he did in the end was not at all better. He shut everybody out. He was too hurt to care about anyone else.

“There’s one Christmas I distinctly remember,” Simon continues. “I promised myself I wouldn’t get high in front of my parents, so I didn’t take anything. I helped Mother with the groceries. I even had a civilized chat with my Father. Mother made a fancy meal… But a guy I was sleeping with at the time suddenly turned up at our door, and he made a scene because… I don’t even remember the reason. But there was shouting. Father broke the door, Mother started crying… I didn’t wait for him to kick me out. I left with the guy, went back to his place, and shot myself up so much I completely lost the next three days. I didn’t talk to my parents after that until next February.”

“That’s… not a happy memory,” Kieren states uselessly. His throat feels so tight with emotions he has trouble swallowing.

“It’s not,” Simon agrees with a nod. “But what I wanted to say is that most of my memories from the last few years are like this one. I loved my parents, and I believe they felt the same at some point… but they couldn’t accept I was gay and hated how I did drugs to cope. Seeing you with your family though, it made me realise how different your experiences are compared to mine. And through that, I’ve realized how different everything has become for me, too. 

“I… I envy you, Kieren.” Simon strokes Kieren’s left cheek, then drops his hand as if he has just realised what he was doing. “Your family is wonderful. I know there were rough times for you guys, but your parents clearly love you and your sister more than anything. And they accept you as you are, they support you… They even welcomed _me!_ You have to understand, that’s not something I’ve ever experienced before.”

“You should have. Being accepted shouldn’t feel strange to you.”

“Maybe. Like you said: the past is the past, and there’s nothing we can do about that. But living like this now, in this moment, I’m content. Maybe even happy. I didn’t feel like this even when I was still with the ULA. I worked for their cause because I believed in the future the Prophet spoke of and because there was nothing else to do with my life. But now… I believe in the _present_. In _you._ I do what I do because I want to live, or—whatever you want to call existing in this not-life life or ours.”

They both changed a lot. The world might be the same around them, but they are experiencing it in wholly new ways now. It is different… but not necessarily worse. Good things _have_ come out of this second life of his. And who knows what else the future still holds for him.

Ice flowers are beautiful, so it’s not a tragedy if they don’t melt away. They might be frozen and cold, but it’s the way they’re meant to be.

Kieren catches one of Simon’s hands, brings it to his mouth and brushes his lips against the soft, cool skin. The man’s breath catches—and then he pulls Kieren against him in an embrace just tight enough to kindle some warmth in Kieren’s chest.

He smells nice. Even if it’s earthy and cold, Simon always smells nice.

“We really should be going down now,” Kieren mumbles into Simon’s sweatshirt after a moment.

Simon kisses the top of Kieren’s head before letting him go.

As the rest of the day goes by, Kieren forgets about his melancholy. Being with his family is nice, extremely so, especially because nobody has to put on a mask anymore. His father meets Kieren’s white eyes without hesitation. He, like Sue, has come to accept their appearance along with the fact that ‘his boys’ can’t eat. Of course, that doesn’t stop Kieren and Simon from sitting down at the table with everyone. The meal looks so delicious Kieren can _almost_ feel his mouth watering, but he’s had enough practice since he was revived to not let it bother him.

Sue and Simon discuss a religious study while Jem talks about a new movie she’s recently watched. She makes fun of Simon when the guy accidentally knocks over a glass. Steve tells Kieren that he’s been looking into art classes, and he found one nearby that Kieren could take without having to leave Roarton. “If you want to, that is,” he says.

He wants to.

After lunch, they clean up and spend the next few hours playing Risk in the living room. Kieren’s secret mission is to destroy the entire red army, which is tough because Jem is ridiculously good at this game. Kieren ends up being the first to lose after Simon—with a totally unapologetic smirk—conquers his last territory. Having finished early, Kieren gets his sketchbook and spends the rest of the game time sketching the others.

They watch TV for the remainder of the day. Sue is trying to get them all to watch goofy Christmas movies, but after Simon casually lets it slip that he’s never watched the full Lord of the Rings trilogy, Jem and Kieren convince her to settle for a LotR-marathon instead. Jem and Steve take the armchairs while Kieren, Simon and Sue get the couch for themselves.

Simon falls asleep halfway through The Return of the King. Up until he started snoring, Kieren thought he was just resting his head on his shoulder. It’s actually really cute. His hair is tickling Kieren’s neck, but the even breathing against him and the comfortable weight against his side is very nice.

When the rest of the family realises what happened, Jem snickers and throws popcorn at them while Sue makes a face as if she’s just been presented with a tiny tiny kitten. Steve makes the strangest expression, but after a second or so, he breaks out in a soft smile.

Once the film is over, Sue and Steve leave, but Jem stays with them and takes the remote control to browse through the TV channels. At some point, she gets a mug of hot chocolate from Sue, but she deems it _too_ hot, so she leaves it in Kieren’s care while she takes a shover. Kieren doesn’t feel the heat of it, not really, but he stares absently at the steam floating into the air from the mug.

He hears a rustling sound, and then there’s a thick red blanket wrapped around Simon and him. Kieren looks up to find his mother’s kind face smiling down at him as she tucks the blanket properly around their shoulders.

“You know we can’t get cold,” Kieren whispers.

“I don’t care. _I_ feel cold looking at you boys.” Sue kisses the top of Kieren’s head. “Don’t stay up too late.”

Kieren’s heart is filled with warmth to the brim. He nods, and if not for the steaming mug of chocolate still in his hands, he would move even closer to Simon. The man is as pale as ever, but all the colourful Christmas decorations give him a pretty glow in the dark, bathing him in red, green and gold. No matter how many times he gets to see Simon’s sleeping face, it always melts something inside his chest into a puddle of goo. 

“You guys are so disgusting,” Jem says cheerfully when she returns. She takes the mug from Kieren, hops down into the nearest armchair, and takes a sip with a blissful sigh. “Talk about heart eyes. Geez.”

Kieren thinks this is the point where he would blush if he was alive. 

“But he’s the same, so I guess it’s okay. Only the best for my big bro, right?” For good measure, she sticks out her tongue.

She’s too far to hear Kieren if he were to whisper, but he doesn’t wait to disturb Simon, either. He settles for a glare, which does nothing to faze Jem.

“Hey, he’s okay. He doesn’t look the part, but he’s a giant dork, isn’t he?” Not waiting for an answer, she picks up the remote and changes the telly to another channel. 

Kieren is not really interested in what’s airing, but he’s very comfortable where he is. He just lets his own head rest against Simon, closes his eyes, and inhales deep until their breathing matches.

He must doze off at some point because the next thing he knows, a hand is gently squeezing his shoulder. He opens his eyes. Everything is near black, the colourful Christmas lights no longer enough to penetrate the darkness of the night.

“You should go upstairs,” his mother whispers, “or your neck will be incredibly sore tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay.” Kieren stretches out his limbs, and he can hear Simon grunting something incomprehensible. “Hey, Simon. Simon. Get up.”

“Mmhm.”

Sue chuckles before leaving them with a soft, “Good night.” Kieren gets up from the couch (damn, his neck is _already_ sore) and briefly considers turning on the light. In the end, he decides against it; he quite likes having his eyesight, and the Christmas lights are just enough for them to find the staircase.

Simon moves like a drunk bear, which is surprisingly adorable… until he crashes into a desk and hisses out a pained, “Fuck!” 

“Careful,” Kieren says. “Do you want me to turn on the—”

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Kieren freezes to the spot, head snapping to the front door. His father must have locked up for the night already, but the motion-sensitive lamp outside is on, and there is a figure standing on their doorstep. Kieren blinks rapidly.

“It’s so late! Who the hell can it be?” He turns back to Simon, but the man seems just as clueless as he feels. “Well. Can’t be a robber if they knocked…”

He grabs the keys from the counter and goes to open the door. He can hear Simon drowsily calling after him, “If it’s Santa, tell him he’s a few days early.”

Kieren rolls his eyes. “Sure. I’ll do that.” 

But as he opens the door—only to be met with a blast of freezing air—he’s smiling.

* * *

It’s cold. So friggin’ cold! She almost forgot just how utterly freezing winter can be when you have a living human body. Her teeth are chattering so wildly she’s afraid they’ll break, and her face has lost all sensation by now. Hugging herself to keep what little warmth her body produces doesn’t seem to be helping much. 

Oh god, just let it _end._ She’s so exhausted… And chilly as an iceberg. Maybe that’s what she’ll become this time: some kind of ridiculous half-human/half-icicle hybrid. Peachy. 

Her legs are moving on autopilot by now, but she knows she’s not far. She’s walked down this street a dozen times. She knows that house. The lights are out, but somebody’s gotta be home. (She’s not sure why this place was the first she instinctively decided to seek out rather than her own. But it felt… right? Yeah, it definitely feels right. They’re going to help her, she’s sure. _He_ is going to help.)

A sudden blast of icy wind catches her hair and blows a long strand into her mouth. She tries to spit it out, but it feels like her tongue is getting frosted over. 

_Almost there,_ she tells herself. _Almost there, babe. You’re awesome, you kick ass, you’ve come this far… You can manage a few more steps._

When she finally reaches her goal, she thinks she might collapse any second now. Her legs are jittery and her arms are probably frozen in place, but she’s _here—_ at last!—so she can allow herself this weakness. She takes a deep breath ( _damn_ , it’s so cold the air itself is burning her throat), knocks on the door… and waits. Her fingers are stiff. Is that frostbite? Her cheeks must be bright pink, too.

That wouldn’t be too bad. She’s spent way too much time not having any colour on her face.

There is no response. She tries again, this time banging several times, as hard as she can. For a second, nothing happens… and then she can finally hear some movement from inside.

Then there’s Kieren’s muffled voice—“Sure. I’ll do that.”—coming right from the other side of the door and she could weep in relief. 

She can’t wait to see his face. She’s on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion and hypothermia and she’s got no idea how long she was away, but the lovely Christmas decorations around the house tell her that it can’t have been that long. Unless it’s a different year altogether. But she would have noticed it, wouldn’t she?

Hang on, what if it’s _Christmas Eve_? Oh, god, wouldn’t that be perfect? She, the flawless human being she is, is going to be the perfect present. Hah! 

Even if it’s not Christmas Eve, she can make her grand re-entrance with a fitting seasonal one-liner. Nobody can say she’s got no style!

The door opens. Two beautiful doe-eyes meet her own… and instantly widen. Kieren gasps, his mouth hanging open. The sight of him being so gobsmacked is so funny she can’t help but giggle. 

Grinning widely, Amy pushes the words through chattering teeth: “H-Hey! Merry Christmas, sugarplum!”


End file.
